y. He accordingly instructed the youths whose office it
was to entertain the emperor with music during dinner, to perform an
affecting and pathetic piece of music, composed for the purpose. The
plaintive sounds soon began to operate. The emperor, unconscious of the
cause, bedewed his cup with tears, and when the singers artfully
proceeded to describe the sufferings of the people of Antioch, their
imperial master could no longer contain himself, but, moved by their
pathos, although unaccustomed to forgive, revoked his vengeance, and
restored the terrified offenders to his royal favour.

Madame E----, who is considered the first dilettante mistress of music
in Paris, related to me, an experiment which she once tried upon a young
woman who was totally deaf and dumb. Madame E---- fastened a silk thread
about her mouth, and rested the other end upon her piano forte, upon
which she played a pathetic air. Her visitor soon appeared much
affected, and at length burst into tears. When she recovered, she wrote
down upon a piece of paper, that she had experienced a delight, which
she could not express, and that it had forced her to weep.

I must reluctantly retire from this pleasing subject, by wishing that
the abbe may long enjoy a series of blissful years, and that his noble
endeavours, "manifesting the enlightened times in which we live," may
meet with that philanthropic success, which, to _his_ generous mind,
will be its most desired reward _here_; assured, as he is, of being
crowned with those unfading remunerations which are promised to the good
_hereafter_.

[Illustration: _Bagatelle in the Bois de Boulogne._]

I one day dined at Bagatelle, which is about four miles from Paris, in
the Bois du Bologne, the parisian Hyde Park, in which the fashionable
equestrian, upon his norman hunter,

--------------------------"with heel insidiously aside,
Provokes the canter which he seems to chide."

The duellist also, in the covert windings of this vast wood, seeks
reparation for the trifling wrong, and bleeds himself, or slaughters his
antagonist. Bagatelle was formerly the elegant little palace of the
count d'Artois. The gardens and grounds belonging to it, are beautifully
disposed. What a contrast to the gloomy shades of Holyrood House, in
which the royal fugitive, and his wretched followers, have found an
asylum!

The building and gardens are in the taste of the Petit Trianon, but
inferior to it. As usual, it is the r